


The Haunting of Michael Quinn

by JDSampson



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Haunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDSampson/pseuds/JDSampson
Summary: Things get personal for Quinn when he and Hynek look into an old case called Operation Playground
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	The Haunting of Michael Quinn

**Author's Note:**

> I think I had this posted before but took it down because I wasn't happy with the speed that it ramped up. But after last week's episode I thought about it and was surprised to find that it was complete but not here in the archive. 
> 
> It follows my story "It Never Entered My Mind" but you don't have to have read that story to read this one.

PBB: The Haunting of Michael Quinn

_Pretend you’re happy when you're blue  
It isn't very hard to do  
And you'll find happiness without and in  
Whenever you pretend_

Meet me at the diner, Quinn had said, which meant they needed to talk about something they couldn’t discuss in the office. There had been a lot of that since the Washington merry-go-round; more secrets, more lies. Only this time they weren’t just lying to the public, they were lying to everyone around them including their bosses, their friends and family members.

Rewind that last one. Only Hynek was lying to his family members because Quinn didn’t seem to have anyone around him that fell into that category. In the year they’d been together, Hynek had never once heard the Captain mention parents, brothers or sisters, not even an eccentric, distant Aunt.

When he thought about – which he did more often than he used to – he realized that he knew very little about his closest friend and compatriot. Quinn loved flying, cigarettes, booze and the occasional poker game. But between his boyish charm and his deep knowledge of psychology he had alienated most everyone on base. No one likes to play with a guy who wins all the time.

Hynek found Captain Michael Quinn tucked away in the last booth at the Hollywood Diner. They had made the place their favorite meeting spot because it was just far enough away from the base that there was little chance of running into someone they knew. Hynek suspected that Quinn also chose the place because he liked the décor; walls and walls of celebrity photos all with fake autographs, movie posters and film reels. Quinn liked the movies (another tidbit to add to the short list) and Hynek often thought his partner would have made an excellent leading man.

Ah, there was still time.

The Captain had one elbow on the table elevating the cigarette in hand and his nose buried in a file. There were more files and a legal pad full of scribbles to his left and an ashtray filled with cigarettes smoked down to within an inch of their lives. 

“Another secluded rendezvous,” Hynek said as he slipped into the booth across from Quinn.

Quinn looked up as if Hynek had always been there then back down at the file.

“You won’t believe this,” he muttered. “Bastards.”

Before Hynek could ask who and why, the waitress appeared. “What’ll it be?” Pad and pencil poised at the ready.

“2 eggs, sunny side up, bacon, toast and coffee.”

“Got it. And you?”

“Just more coffee, ma’am.” 

“Wait,” Hynek said to the waitress. “He hasn’t eaten?”

“If you count two pots of coffee. And that sugar container there was full when he sat down.”

It was a third empty.

“Double the order but make his scrambled. And juice before he has any more coffee.”

Quinn pulled a face. “What are you, my mother now?”

Funny he should say that. . . Hynek thought it might be the perfect opportunity. . . but then he noticed the blood shot eyes and the dark circles. “Have you slept?”

“You mean in the past 28 years? Some.”

Hynek picked up the nearest folder and flipped it open, instinctually turning it away from anyone who might walk by the table. “Is this what’s been keeping you up lately?” It was a patient file like a doctor would have.

Thomas Z: Age 7

Caucasian. 45 inches tall, 75 pounds.

The usual list of childhood illnesses from chicken pox to tonsillitis.

Joel had had his tonsils out when he was eight. Routine they said, but it was still frightening, watching your child get rolled into an operating room.

“What am I looking at?”

“The answer to a big question that’s been bothering me for the last month.”

Month? Hynek did a quick calendar calculation. New Jersey. The Cosmic Carnival. Cadence, the mind-reading Martian / Centaurian girl. The men with guns. The flooded bunker. The near-death experience and the confessions after.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Quinn’s soft, deep voice pulled Hynek back to the present. His partner was looking right at him with those big, brown, ‘trust me’ eyes. Not a hint of a smile or a smirk on his face. His concern was genuine.

“Not as much but I have been extra careful to avoid pools, bathtubs, even large bowls of soup.”

Quinn laughed slightly under his breath and his lips turned up just a little. Hynek wasn’t very good at telling jokes, but when he got it right, Quinn’s reaction was always worth the try.

“Take a look at this.” Quinn handed Hynek the file he’d been studying. It was like the other, but this one was about a girl.

Katie H: Age 10

Caucasian. 52 inches, 65 pounds

Medical history: unavailable

“Again, I say, what am I looking at?”

Quinn started to answer but stopped when the waitress appeared with their breakfast. She set up the two plates, filled two cups of coffee, but dutifully positioned a glass of orange juice closer to Quinn.

“Need anything else?”

“We’re good,” Quinn offered a smile, but it was the fake one he used for people he wanted to be rid of. As soon as she was out of earshot, he leaned across the table and harshly whispered, “they called it Operation Playground. Can you believe it? They didn’t even have the decency to hide the fact that they were experimenting on kids!”

Hynek flipped the pages in the file, skimming the notes but not picking up much. It still looked like a medical chart with just a few odd notations here and there.

“Where did you get all this? From our files?”

“Are you kidding? Even Blue Book doesn’t have this. I called in a favor.”

Hynek dropped the file and slammed it shut. “You mean this is classified? As in, we could be court marshalled just for possessing it classified?”

“Well, I could be court marshalled. I don’t know what they’d do to you. You’d lose your clearance for sure. Maybe brought up on charges.”

“If I’m going to risk my freedom, can you please tell me what it is you think you have here?”

“Katie H! That could be Cadence.”

The pieces were coming together. Hynek picked up a fork in one hand and a piece of toast in the other and began urging an egg on to the charred bread. “I assume you have more than just a vaguely similar name on a medical chart.”

“Oh, didn’t I . . .?”

“You didn’t. Eat your breakfast.”

Quinn dutifully swallowed a fork full of eggs and a half a strip of bacon. “There, are you happy?”

“Immensely,” Hynek replied then polished off a triangle of toast.

“They were experimenting on kids, Doc.” Quinn set his cigarette in the ashtray and began shuffling the folders on the table. “There’s a summary in one of these but they were doing psychic experiments. Using electric shocks to the brain to get these kids to see through other people’s eyes. Does that sound familiar?”

The technique Cadence has used to save his life back in New Jersey. “Remote viewing. I did some research after. . . . “ You know, nearly dying. “It’s also called traveling clairvoyance and it hasn’t been seriously studied since the mid-1800’s but some of the top men of the day were interested enough to conduct their own tests. Even Michael Faraday who, as you know, was instrumental in discovering so much of what we know about electromagnetism, so I can see where modern researchers might turn to electricity to elicit the desired response.”

Quinn took that all in with a completely blank stare. He picked up his cigarette, inhaled, then twisted his lips to blow the smoke to the side and not into Hynek’s face. “Nope. Sorry, I got about three words of that.”

“All I’m saying is, that as far-fetched as it seems, some of history’s top scientific geniuses have been fascinated enough to study the concept.”

“That means you’ll be in excellent company when you add your name to that list.” Quinn picked up the juice glass and drained it without taking a breath, then he set the empty glass down like it was a chess piece and he was declaring checkmate. “Why kids?”

“Because their brains haven’t fully developed yet. Human children process through the amygdala. It’s actually the same part of the brain that triggers the fight or flight response that MOST people experience when faced with potential danger. In adults, the final decision comes from the prefrontal cortex, the brain’s rational part. That’s why children hear a sound and think it’s a monster under the bed when an adult knows it’s just the house settling. Without the use of the rational part of the brain, children can be more easily led into activities that would make an adult scoff or resist. A good trainer can talk a child into completing an experiment by couching it as make believe. Pretend.”

“And how old do you have to be before this rational part of the brain kicks in?”

“In females, it’s around 12 to 15. For males, it’s closer to 20 and there are studies that say some men are nearly thirty before the emotional, reckless side of the brain finally gives way to the rational, good decision-making side.”

“You’re making that up.” Quinn lit another cigarette even though he still had one burning in the ashtray.

Allen lifted his hand in a ‘whole truth and nothing but the truth’ gesture then returned to eating his breakfast.

“You’re telling me that the Air Force put me and a hundred other guys like me into the sky with bombs, guns and underdeveloped brains?”

“With a lack of impulse control, yes. It’s why teenage boys tend to get into so much trouble. It’s not really their fault, they’re acting on primal instincts they have no control over like hunger, territorialism, sexual release.”

Hynek said that last phrase just as the waitress stepped up to refill their coffee cups. He didn’t need a mirror to know his cheeks were in full bloom.

Quinn laughed. “Science,” he said to the waitress then gave her a wink that put the blush in her cheeks. He took a few more bites of food while waiting for the woman to get out of earshot.

“This,” he motioned toward the pile of files, “is seriously, screwed up shit and I’m gonna find the guy who ran this program and stick a few electrodes in his head. That’s how I’m going to spend my summer vacation.”

Hynek tried to hold back a sigh. . . actually, he didn’t bother at all. “I agree that this is terrible but it’s a little outside of our purview—”  
  
“Purview? I’ll give you purview.”

That didn’t even make sense.

Quinn started opening and closing files, looking for a specific one. “What year was your son born? 44?”

“43.”

Quinn found what he was looking for, then flipped the file for Hynek to see. ‘Henry B: Age 5’

“Look at the date on that. What does it say?”

“1948,” Hynek replied, calmly and factually.

It did little to take the air out of Quinn’s tires. “Meaning, little Henry there was born in 1943. Just like your son. Seriously, Doc, you’re a father. I thought you would understand how fucked up this is.”

Frustration and a little bit of anger rose up in Allen’s throat and it made it difficult to respond calmly – the only way to deal with Quinn when he was in a ranting mood. “I understand that you’re using my child as a persuasion tactic but don’t. My son and my wife are off-limits, they’re not to be used as leverage against me.”

Quinn dropped his chin to his chest and rubbed his forehead with the two fingers that weren’t clutching a cigarette. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just this is. . . . “ His words faded off in favor of lip twisting and biting. His gaze was locked on the table as he took a few more drags on the cigarette.

He was calming himself. Regulating his breathing. It was a set of behaviors Hynek had seen numerous times over the past year, though he’d only recently labeled it Quinn’s reset mode.

Hynek watched his partner’s slow transformation from angry heading toward violent to controlled and emotionless. It was fascinating and scary. He personally had never felt afraid of the Captain, but he’d seen grown men quake in his partner’s presence. Tip of the iceberg. Funny phrase. But Hynek had spent more than a few sleepless nights wondering about the bits of darkness that overwhelmed Quinn from time to time.

Was this going to be one of those times?

He saw Quinn swallow hard then he brought his eyes up and there’s was an emptiness that made Allen ache inside.

“I need to find out more about this Operation Playground. And I would very much like your company and your help.”

What he wasn’t saying was ‘this is personal’ but Hynek got that loud and clear. This wasn’t just about Cadence. This was about Captain Michael Quinn and that was all Hynek needed to say, yes.

# # # 

They spent so much time reading the files that the waitress asked if they were going to order lunch. Which gave Hynek a jolt because he was due back at the University.

Quinn threw money on the table, enough to cover the bill plus a big tip for having taken up so much of the waitress’s time. He scooped up the files and they walked out together. As soon as they hit the damp air Hynek had an epiphany.

“The doctor who signed off most of these reports, the handwriting is terrible, but I think it’s Allred Dunham.”

“Who the hell is Allred Dunham?” Quinn asked as he tossed the files into a box on the back seat of his car.

“He was a very prominent neuroscientist. A student of Edgar Adrian’s. He – Adrian – won the 1932 Nobel Prize for Physiology due to his groundbreaking work on the function of neurons.”

“Get to some words that mean something.” Quinn slammed the car door then turned to lean back against the massive vehicle.

Hynek closed his eyes for a moment as he rifled through the card catalog in his mind. Dunham, Dunham. He’d heard the man lecture at the University before the war. What was the subject?

“As I recall, Dunham was the leading American expert in the study of electrical activity in the brain and how abnormalities in the Berger rhythm—”

“I’m still lost, Doc,” Quinn grumbled, dropping his head back against the roof of the car to stare up into the cloudy sky.

“—lead to epileptic seizures.”

Finally! Quinn snapped to attention. “Epileptic seizures, as in eyes rolling back in your head, violent convulsions. . . is any of this sounding familiar?”

Cadence, again. During a particularly emotional moment involving a loose lion at the carnival, the young woman had gone into a full grand mal seizure in Quinn’s arms. Just prior to that, she had given the Captain a glimpse of the future. Allen’s future actually, as he drowned in the ice-cold arms of the Atlantic Ocean.

“Maybe there really is a connection,” Hynek admitted. “If the Dr Dunham who signed all those medical charts is THE Doctor Dunham then it does seem to come together.”

“Seem too?” Quinn shot back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, hips bumping the car once, then twice. “Let’s see, we have a secret government program that used electricity to turn kids into TV sets by stimulating various sections of their brains. We have a famous doctor who is known for his work on electrical activity in the brain and how it can lead to seizures. And we have a mind-reading, non-Martian who is the right age, has seizures and likes to play with electricity. What say we bump ‘seems to’ up to ‘hell yeah.’”

“What I don’t understand,” said Hynek. “Is why you always claim _you_ don’t understand when I talk about scientific or complex topics.”

Quinn’s eyebrows lifted just a little. “Oh, it’s not that I don’t understand what you’re saying, it’s more that I’m not listening to what you’re saying. I get bored. Mind wanders.”

That was. . . Quinn. Hynek shook it from his head. “Well, if you wouldn’t MIND wandering back to the base by yourself: I have a class to teach. After that, I’ll use my contacts at the university to locate Allred Dunham. I imagine you’re going to want to talk to him.”

“Oh, you can’t imagine how much I want to talk to him.”

“Captain!” Hynek said closing the distance between them to a few feet. “We’re just going to talk. Leave your electrodes at home.”

Quinn stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”

Hynek felt a smile and a laugh rising but he was determined to keep his partner on a short leash. That meant not falling for any of his tricks – childish or otherwise. He whirled and headed for his car. “For your information,” he said as he walked away. “At University functions, I am considered the life of the party.”

“Is there a lot of competition for that title?” Quinn shouted across the parking lot.

In spite of his own admonishment, Hynek felt the smile cross his face. Quinn could do that to him – take him from deathly serious and dry to upbeat and laughing in the space of a single minute.

It was strange. If they had met in the normal world, they would have passed each other by. Barely an acquaintance, let alone a friend. But all they had seen at Project Blue Book had brought them as close as any two people could be. Closer. Allen didn’t like to admit it, but there were things he’d shared with the young pilot that he’d never shared with his own wife. And she was no fan of Quinn’s. It wasn’t personal, she just thought her husband should spend more time with his family than his colleague. He knew she was right but still, he found himself longing to be back on the hunt with Quinn every time he was at home for more than a few days.

His analytical brain said that was abnormal. But Quinn had this undeniable magnetism about him that made him one of the cool kids; the ones everyone wanted to hang with at the malt shop and invite to parties and sit next to in class.

Allen had never been part of that world. All the boys who knocked his books from his hands and laughed about it; all the girls that ran the other way when they thought he might ask them out; all the kids who whispered unkind words when he walked by. . . . what were they doing now? Selling insurance? Pumping gas. Raising babies? He was investigating flying saucers and aliens from Mars with a real-life, fighter pilot hero as his best friend and confidant.

Captain Quinn had turned Allen Hynek into one of the cool kids.

“If they could see me now. . . . “ Hynek got into his car, started it then looked back at where he’d just been.

Quinn was still leaning against his car staring into space, his face devoid of expression and oddest of all – no cigarette in his hand.

The smile fell off his face. This one was going to hurt.

# # # #

“Say it,” Hynek prompted, hanging on to Quinn’s arm so he couldn’t get out of the car.

Who was he kidding? Quinn could shake him off like he was a bug on his coat, but he played along keeping both hands on the steering wheel, back ramrod straight, eyes front.

“I promise to behave myself. I will be polite. Respectful. And I won’t punch him.”

The words were right, but the tone wasn’t. Best he was going to get. One last try. “You’ve given your word as an officer and a gentleman and I expect you to honor that promise.”

Quinn shot him a weary look. “Can we just do this?”

Hynek let go and they both climbed out of the car.

They were parked in the driveway of a three-story Colonial Revival home with a stone front, dormer windows in the roof and front porch flanked by hand-turned white, wooden columns.

“Looks like he’s doing okay,” Quinn said as he climbed the front stairs with the Professor on his heels. He rang the doorbell and heard a dog bark in reply. A woman’s voice told the dog to stop then the door opened wide letting out a whiff of fresh baked cookies. “That was fast ---” She cut herself off when she realized it wasn’t whomever she was expecting. “Oh, hello. Can I help you?”

Mrs. Dunham was in her sixties. She was tall and thin and carried herself in a way that suggested years of private school and afternoon tea parties. She was curious but not concerned. Quinn was in his civilian suit and he wondered if she would have reacted differently if he’d been in uniform.

He touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am, we’re looking for Doctor Allred Dunham.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” She stepped aside and ushered them both in. Both men immediately removed their hats and accepted her offer to put them on the hat rack by the door. “If you’ll wait here a moment, he’s just upstairs.”

As she headed up, a giant Irish setter came bounding toward them from the back of the house.

“Don’t worry, she’s friendly.” She called back before disappearing down the upper hall.

Quinn dropped to a stoop to give the dog some love and attention. The beast’s tail was wagging faster than an airplane propeller and she was panting with excitement. The Captain’s magnetism worked on animals, too.

“She’s gorgeous. Isn’t she? I wish I had a dog but with the way we’re always traveling, and my place is so small.” Quinn got into a faux wrestling match with the hairy animal. “How come you don’t have a dog? You have that big house with a yard. Joel should have a dog. Every boy needs a dog.”

“Do you need me in this conversation, or can you manage it on your own?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

The dog barked at Allen, adding her thoughts to the mix then went back to nuzzling Quinn.

“Ginger! Leave the poor man alone.” Dr. Allred Dunham came down the stairs, walking slowly holding the railing for balance. He was the image of a country doctor, white hair, beard and mustache. All neatly trimmed with a slightly sallow complexion and a long, angular face. With his thick, black glasses, he looked a bit like an older version Allen Hynek. “She has a thing for military men.”

Quinn stood at that reference, eyebrows dipping down in question.

“Some say the uniform makes the man, but I say the man makes the uniform. Even in civilian clothes, I can spot a solider a mile away.”

Quinn sharpened his posture that extra 1%. “Captain Michael Quinn, sir. United States Air Force.” He didn’t offer his hand but stood with them clasped neatly and tightly at the small of his back: Parade Rest.

Hynek did offer his hand and it was accepted. “I’m Doctor Allen Hynek. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I had the honor of attending one of your lectures at the University of Chicago. It was fascinating.”

“But not fascinating enough to bring you over to our side.”

“Come again,” said Quinn, suspicious mind always at work.

“We lost him to the Physics Department. It would have been my pleasure to have you switch your major to neuroscience. We could have used a man with your genius, your insights.” Dunham turned to Quinn and simultaneously reached down to give Ginger a scrub on the head. “Academia is a small world. We all teach and publish and lecture. The cream rises to the top and we’re all aware. So, what can I do for Project Blue Book?”

“You can tell us about Operation Playground.”

So much for polite and respectful. Hynek wanted to point his finger and send Quinn to the car like he’d sent his son to his room for talking back numerous times. “Dr. Dunham, I apologize—”

The old man held up his hand as he shook his head. “No need. I like a man who speaks up. I always knew this day was coming, I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

“Allred,” Mrs. Dunham from the stairs. “Why don’t you escort these gentlemen out to the sunporch. It’s a lovely day. I’ll bring coffee and cookies.”

Quinn opened his mouth, probably to say this wasn’t a social call but Hynek stopped him with a hand to the Captain’s elbow – one of the small signals they’d developed between them to communicate in ways outsiders wouldn’t understand. “That would most welcome, Mrs. Dunham. Thank you.”

Mr. Dunham led them down the same hall they were standing in, straight through to the back of the house. Ginger fell in step beside her master and laid down next to him once the old man was seated.

The sunporch ran across the back of the house and was all glass on three sides. It was decorated in a feminine floral theme and there was a dainty table covered with a floral tablecloth in the center of the room. And four chairs all around.

The sun was streaming in making the space warm and bright and there was a spectacular view of a well-kept garden and the Smokey Mountains beyond. Quinn stood at the windowed wall longer than the other two men, staring out at something in the yard.

A swing set. A sliding board. A jungle gym. A playground.

“This is very nice,” said Hynek.

“Built is with my own two hands. Very rewarding. My favorite place to sit and watch the sun set.”

“My wife is always on me to build a deck in our yard but it’s one of those projects I’ve never gotten around to.”

“Wait until you retire, you’ll have even less time.” Dunham relaxed back in his chair, one hand dropping to stroke the Irish Setter.

“Operation Playground,” Quinn prompted as he took the chair to Allen’s left and directly across from the older doctor. “Start at the beginning and we’ll ask question along the way.”

Jesus, he was practically sneering at the esteemed Doctor.

“The way you’re looking at me, young man, you already know the details. Or at least you think you do. Let me be clear about one thing. What the program became was not what I envisioned. I was trying to make a difference, to help unfortunate children lead a better life.”

“By sticking electrodes in their brains?” Quinn pulled out a pack of cigarettes, put one between his lips, lit it then left the pack and the lighter on the table. 

“Captain, have you ever seen a child having an epileptic seizure?”

“Not a child, but I saw a young woman having a ‘grand mal’ seizure just a few weeks ago. She was psychic, the real deal and she made it so I could see things through Doctor Hynek’s eyes even though he was miles away.”

“Remote viewing.” Dunham leaned forward with interest unphased by Quinn’s aggressive tone. “And you say she was the real deal. You were able to verify her statements.”

“Believe me, professor,” said Hynek fighting back the fear that always came with the memory. “She was for real.”

“And you think she was one of mine?”

Mrs. Dunham came out to the porch just then with a large, full tray in her hands.

“Let me help you with that,” said Quinn as he walked around the table to relieve her of her burden. Pissed or not, he was always a gentleman first.

“Thank you. I’ll just be a minute, but you don’t have to stop talking on my account. There are no secrets between my husband and myself.”

Hynek couldn’t imagine such a phrase coming out of Mimi’s mouth. Two years ago, maybe but not since Project Blue Book had come into his life.

“Cadence, the carnival mind-reader, is it possible? Could any of your subjects be walking around today with special abilities?”

“Subjects,” Quinn muttered under his breath. He returned to his chair but kept standing as Mrs. Dunham filled and laid out three cups of coffee.

“I know I shouldn’t interject,” Mrs. Dunham pushed one of the cups closer to Quinn then added a cookie to the side of the saucer. “My husband is not the monster you clearly think he is. You should hear him out before passing judgement.” She gave her husband a pat on the shoulder then left them alone.

As soon as she was gone, Quinn returned to his seat. “Go ahead, explain to me how I’ve got this all wrong.”

A lesser man might have folded under the Captain’s scrutiny, but Dunham wasn’t shaken in the least. He seemed almost resigned. “We started out hoping to learn more about how the brain works so we could fix it when it didn’t. Not just epilepsy but other abnormalities in the brain that we label as mental disorders. When I was in London, working at the university, we used adults as our test subjects, but we weren’t getting the results we needed. I thought that if I could work with a person whose brain isn’t yet fully connected, like a child, I would have more luck rewiring that brain and thus curtailing abnormal neurological behaviors.”

Hynek glanced at Quinn to see if he was following and was again taken back by the cold, emotionless look on his partner’s face. 

“Where did you get the kids from?” Quinn asked, fingers crumbling the edges off the cookie on his plate with one hand while he smoked with the other.

“Orphanages, unfit mothers, off the street – I’m telling you, these children had a better life when we took them in. They had warm beds and clean water, good food and time to play. None of those were guaranteed in the lives they led before coming to us. One boy, Luis, his mother thought his seizures were caused by the devil, so she tried to drive the demons out by pressing a hot iron to his flesh.”

Quinn visibly flinched then countered by sitting up straighter in his chair. Hynek felt the irrational urge to reach over and place a calming hand on his partner’s flexed arm but he fought it by using his hand to add sugar and milk to his coffee.

“And then there was Alice, at eight years old, she was stealing food from the store and pickpocketing wallets to care for her 4-year-old brother.”

“What about Katie H, age 10.” The one they suspected was Cadence from the carnival.

Dunham took a sip of his coffee, contemplating . . . what?

“I remember all of them, Captain. I cared about all of them. What the experiments evolved into, that wasn’t my call. That came from higher up, the people who were paying the bills, demanding results. If we hadn’t pushed a little harder, they would have shut us down and those children would have been the ones to suffer.”

“Katie H,” said Quinn.

Under the table, Hynek could feel the bounce of Quinn’s right leg. Every so often their knees would collide but Hynek didn’t even consider moving to avoid it. A year plus and he’d never once seen his partner wound this tight.

“She was both our greatest success and our biggest failure. May I?” Dunham motioned toward the pack of cigarettes. Quinn pushed them closer, along with his lighter and waited impatiently for Dunham to light up. The older doctor picked up the pack with his free hand and toyed with it as Quinn was doing with the crumbling cookie.

“Katie was a little older than we like to have in the program. Closer to a fully formed brain but we chose her because she was smart, sharp, an excellent example of a healthy, functional young female. Which was surprising given her history. That’s why we wanted to study her. To see if we could determine the source of her strength. Most people in her position, let alone a pre-pubescent girl, would crack under that kind of strain.”

Quinn’s leg bounced harder and this time Hynek didn’t resist the urge. He laid a hand on his partner’s thigh under the table and the movement stopped. Hynek expected a weary glance or glare but Quinn didn’t take his eyes off Dunham.

“What kind of strain?”

“Her mother was a heroin addict. She earned her living as a prostitute until she was so far gone into the drugs that no one would have her.”

“Seriously,” Quinn mumbling, knowing what was coming.

“She started selling her daughter just after Katie’s 8th birthday. Katie remembered because the man who provided the food for the party took her as his payment.”

Quinn stood up abruptly, forcing Hynek to break contact.

“That is the most disgusting, fucked up thing I’ve ever heard. And believe me, I’ve heard a lot of disgusting, fucked up things.”

“Agreed,” said Dunham, “But I would appreciate it if you would watch your language. We don’t speak that way in this house.”

“No, you just turn abused children into little lab rats. How are you any different, any better than the men who got their jollies shacking up with a ten-year-old girl?”

Dunham stood this time, but he wasn’t as fluid as Quinn. He bumped the table hard enough to slosh coffee out of the cups. Quinn snatched up his lighter to protect it from spill. Dunham still had the pack of cigarettes in his hand. He crushed it and tossed in Quinn’s direction. “Get out of my house!”

Ginger, the Irish Setter leapt to her feet and began barking furiously – complaining or protecting, hard to tell.

Now Hynek had to stand. He moved in front of his partner all too aware that he didn’t make much of a deterrent.

As if there wasn’t enough angst in the air, Mrs. Dunham came running in response to her husband’s outburst.

“What is going on out here?” She took in the tableau and tsk tsked. “Grown men, the three of you, acting like hooligans. And the language,” she aimed that one at Quinn. “I’m glad you’re not in uniform. You’re a disgrace spouting filth like that.”

Hynek heard Quinn suck in a huge breath. Reset mode.

“You’re absolutely correct, ma’am. I was raised better than that and trained better than that.” Sharp, clipped military speak. “I sincerely apologize. If you’ll allow me to clean up the mess.”

Hynek really wanted to turn to see his partner’s face during this speech but something told him he was better off the way he was.

“That won’t be necessary but thank you and thank you for the apology. It’s accepted. What happened back then, to those children and the program – it’s not an easy discussion. Allred?”

The old man took in a shuddering breath then dropped back into his chair. “I’ve had these stories in my head for so long, I’ve forgotten how jarring they can be. Please, sit, ask me whatever you like.”

“Let’s all try to remain civil, shall we?” Mrs. Dunham removed the cups and the coffee pot from the table and set them on the sideboard. She picked up the crumpled pack of cigarettes then addressed Quinn once again. “Yours?”

“Yes ma’am. Another bad habit, I can’t seem to break.”

“Tomorrow’s another day.” She gathered the coffee-soaked tablecloth into a bundle. “Listen for the doorbell. The girls will be here soon, and I don’t want them to hear any of this.” She took the dirty cloth with her and left the porch.

“My granddaughters,” said Allred. “They’re staying over for a few days. I had forgotten. We really need to wrap this up.” He twisted his hand with his other hand. Ginger whined and set her head on her master’s lap.

“Katie,” Hynek broached carefully, taking his seat again. “You said she was also your greatest failure. How so?”

Dunham glanced at Quinn, clearly concerned about going further into this mine field. “She. . . . split.”

“Left,” Quinn clarified. “Ran away from the program?”

“No. Her personality split. All of the bad memories went to one personality – Katie, while the other, the new personality had no memory of her past.”

“Cadence,” said Hynek. “Doesn’t sound like a failure. You gave her a chance to live a normal life, at least part of the time, when that personality was in charge.”

“True. But when the other personality took over, the strong, resilient girl we knew disintegrated into a monster, hurting herself, hurting the other children. Since we had no idea when she’d make the switch, we had no choice but to isolate her from the others permanently.”

Quinn made a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan. “You locked her in a cage? After everything she’d been through, you abandoned her, too.”

Hynek tensed, ready to jump in between again but Quinn wandered off as far as the sunporch would let him.

“What happened to the children when the program shut down?” asked Hynek.

Dunham got up and went to the window. “Soldiers arrived without any notice. A General came with them. He told us we were done. He supervised the collection of all of our files and notes. There were army nurses who gathered the children and loaded them on to a bus. I remember thinking that was a clever touch – sending woman to take them as if they’d be any less scared.

My staff and I were reminded of our oath of silence and we were dismissed. Just like that, it was over. I know this will be difficult to understand but my days at Evermore – that was what we called it– my days there were the happiest, most challenging and exciting days of my life. You look at Operation Playground and see something ungodly. I look up there,” He nodded toward the mountain behind the house, toward the vague outline of a tower high on the hill. “I see some of my greatest achievements.”

“Up there?” Quinn repeated. “The base for Operation Playground, it’s up there?”

“Yes, you can just see the top of the roof line this time of year. It’s a grand old building dating back to the early 1800s. It was a private school for many years until the government bought it for us. It was quite a time.”

“I’ve had enough,” Quinn said softly. “I’ll be in the car.” He left without a polite goodbye.

Dunham waited until Quinn was gone then turned fully to Hynek. “Your partner, did he see combat during the war?”

“Quite a bit. He flew combat missions over Berlin and he was on the ground at Buchenwald.”

Dunham shook his head and sighed. “Experiences like that, at so young an age, when the brain is still forming, it changes a man. I’ve been called in to consult on so many cases of young soldiers who were broken by the experience. Some don’t even realize that the scars are destroying them from the inside out. It’s hard to watch a man implode alone when all he had to do was ask for help.”

Hynek stood, for the first time really not liking the man for what he was saying. “Captain Quinn is fine. And if he does need help, he has me.”

“Let’s hope that’s enough.”

Quinn was retrieving his hat from the stand when Mrs. Dunham appeared from behind him.

“You’re leaving.” Obvious observation.

Quinn turned, all charm on his face. “We are,” he said, pointedly changing the pronoun. “Thank you for your hospitality. I apologize for the fuss.”

“Already forgotten. Oh! Just a moment.” She dashed into the next room and came back with a pack of cigarettes. “To replace the ones my husband destroyed. He’s supposed to be giving them up so one less pack won’t kill him.”

Quinn accepted the gift and as he stuck the pack in his shirt pocket, he was already counting the minutes until he could feel the nicotine bliss in his system again.

He opened the front door in time to see a woman and two young girls getting out of a car. The woman was the spitting image of Mrs. Dunham only younger. The girls – they were something else entirely.

Eight or nine years old with white blonde hair in a ponytail, rosy cheeks on a porcelain face, crystal blue eyes and the dainty build of a future ballerina. Both of them, because they were identical. Not just twins identical but copy machine identical.

“Captain, this is my daughter Andrea and her girls, Ella and Emily.”

Quinn touched the brim of his hat. “You have a lovely family.”

“More of God’s miracles,” said Mrs. Dunham. “Have a safe journey, Captain. I’ll hurry your friend along.” She herded her brood inside and closed the door. Quinn was still standing there processing when the door reopened.

The professor.

Nope.

Ella or Emily – did it matter which? The girl gave him the most curious stare, her brows dipped for a moment then a smile crossed her face. It wasn’t nice and it gave Quinn a hideous chill.

# # # #

The car was filled with smoke when Hynek finally slid into the passenger seat. Not that Quinn had minded the wait. Ten minutes earlier he’d been too shaky to drive. But now, it was all smooth sailing.

“Did you see the granddaughters?”

“I did. It was quite startling. I’ve never seen twins that look so. . . identical.”

“My thoughts exactly. It’s almost as if they were duplicated, say. . . in a lab.”

Hynek scoffed. “You’ve been watching too many science fiction movies.”

“They look pretty blond and blue-eyed to me.”

“You’re talking about Eugenics and Hitler’s master race. That’s an evolutionary process. Even the Nazi’s didn’t have the scientific wherewithal to create life.”

Quinn tamped out the end of his cigarette in the car’s ashtray. “And Von Braun is just building toy rockets in the backyard.”

“Speaking of backyard,” Hynek said, happy to change the subject. “What do you make of the fact that the Operation Playground happened just up the hill.”

Quinn shrugged. “Man likes to live close to his work. You live near the base where you work.”

Hynek shifted to sit sideways on this seat so he could look at his partner straight on. “When I went looking for Dunham’s address, I kept getting a house in upstate New York. It took a few tries to get this address. I asked Mrs. Dunham when they moved in. Three years ago.”

Quinn also shifted to face his partner. “They shut down Playground five years ago. Then the man buys a home with a view of his old office and builds a glass porch so he can look at it every day.”

“He’s punishing himself,” said Hynek giving Quinn’s arm a tap.

“Or he’s keeping watch.” Quinn tapped back. “If the swallows can find their way home to Capistrano, want to bet Dunham’s ‘subjects’ can find their way back home, too.”

# # #

Evermore Academy

The name was still on the sign out front, but the sign was weathered and partially hidden by vines.

Pretending to be a private school was a good cover. If anyone should make their way up the hill, they’d expect to see children living, playing and learning in the large structure. Nothing odd about it at all.

Except that these kids could show you your future or scrape your darkest secrets out of her head with just a touch.

Quinn parked close to the front door and the two stepped out into a patch of dead grass and overgrown weeds. There was a cracked window by the front door and the paint was peeling on the wood trim, but otherwise the building appeared solid and in good repair.

The front door wasn’t locked.

Stepping in, they were touched by the smell of decaying leaves, dust and mold. Unpleasant but not unbearable.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been bothering you,” Hynek asked as they moved off to the room to the left front hall.

“I just don’t like the idea of people messing around with kids. That’s all.”

That wasn’t all but Hynek didn’t push. “Someone’s been here recently.” He pointed to a sleeping bag and pile of trash – soda bottles and sandwich wrappers. “Vagrants looking to get out the weather, I suppose.”

“Not vagrants.” Quinn scooped a bit of fabric off the floor and held it up for Hynek to see.

A small bra.

“I think we found some teenager’s love nest.” Quinn dropped the bra and kept investigating.

“Why would a boy bring a girl into this dirty, drafty old building?”

“To scare her, of course,” Quinn replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She hears a sound; he says it could be a monster – heard they kept monsters locked up in this place years ago – maybe one of them is still here. She freaks, snuggles close. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. She presses up tight and well, you know how it goes from there.”

Not really in Hynek’s experience, but he’d seen it in the movies.

They returned to the hall and checked the rooms on the other side: a dining space that led around to a kitchen. Both rooms had a few pieces of furniture and other signs of life but nothing incriminating.

Upstairs next.

They found two sets of bedrooms – boys and girls. Both had rows of beds, dressers and empty shelves.

The boys’ room had a cowboy mural on the wall – worn and faded. A rocking horse in the corner and toy box filled with balls, toy soldiers and tops.

The girls’ room might have been a cheery yellow color at one time. There was a garden mural on the wall. A doll house and one rag doll sitting all alone on a bed.

Quinn picked up the doll and carried it with him as he moved out into the hall and down to the next room. It was the largest space on the floor, the original master bedroom. Only now it held torturous looking medical beds, steel carts, blood bag poles and a bank of dials and gauges.

“Damn.” Quinn.

It was dark in the room and Hynek instinctively reached for the wall switch. He flipped it up and the harsh hanging lamps popped on flooding the room with a harsh, white glow.

“Huh,” said Quinn. “I wonder who’s paying the electric bill?”

“Probably a government oversight. No one told the accounts department that the project had been disbanded, so they keep writing the checks. I need to get my camera from the car.”

“I’ll be here.”

Quinn reviewed the equipment on the desk, but it was all meaningless to him. The beds – different story. He chose one that had the back cranked up to a slight angle. Sat down on it, laid the rag doll on his chest then fished out his cigarettes and lighter. After a couple of drags on the smoke, he closed his eyes and engaged in an internal war over whether or not to let the memories in. There were schools of thought that said it was better if you faced the pain. But walling it off seemed so much easier and safer.

He went back there. To that little office. Not even a hospital. Just a dingy space with a nasty old man.

A little girl in a big bed. Crying. Fighting. Mother holding her down while the doctor slipped a needle into her arm.

_Mikey!_

_You’re hurting her._

_It has to be done. She’s sick but this will make her better._

Screaming in pain. Twisting and fighting against what was happening inside and out.

He wanted to help. Wanted to rip out the needles and the wires and run off with her where they could never be found. But hiding was never a good option. It always finds you and its worse than you imagined.

“Come and find me!”

Quinn’s eyes popped open. That voice didn’t come from his head. He held his breath and listened.

“Hide and seek, Mikey. Where am I?” A giggle.

A giggle he hadn’t heard except in his head for more than 20 years.

“Daisy.” He sat up, legs over the side, the rag doll in his lap.

Miss Polly. That was what she called her favorite doll. She was never without it except when it got so filthy from being dragged here and there that mother took it away to wash it. Always when she was sleeping, Daisy wouldn’t stand for it if she was awake.

“Mike Mike” That was her imitation of the old crow that lived in the tree by her bedroom. The same voice she used to call her big brother when he was too busy to pay attention. “Play with me!”

Another drag on the cigarette. She caught him smoking once, sharing a stolen stick with a couple of boys from school. She threatened to tell Father which would have resulted in a whipping to beat all whippings. He convinced her not to tell by offering to take her to the movies. Daisy loved the musicals. Michael wanted to see King Kong.

“I’m waiting!” She called, louder than before. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m higher than you! Like a bird!”

With the doll in hand, Quinn left the lab and started opening every door down the long hall until he found a staircase.

“You’re getting warmer!”

Up the stairs to a tower room that was filled with trunks and other junk. And there she was. 5 years old, dressed in her favorite blue pinafore, ribbons in her brown hair – one hanging loose. One was always hanging loose.

“You found me!”

“I’ll always find you, Daisy girl.”

She ran to him and he fell to his knees so she could throw her arms around his neck for a hug.

Oh god. He could feel her. She was warm and solid and that so shouldn’t be.

“You brought Miss Polly.” Daisy took the doll from Quinn’s hand and clutched it to her breast. Then she made a face. Sniffed. “You’ve been smoking. I’m going to tell.”

“Not if I take you to the picture show.”

Her face fell.

“Can’t go. I’m sick.”

Quinn couldn’t breathe. “You’re better.”

Tears welled in her eyes and then in his. She leaned into him and he landed on the floor with her in his lap. She was shaking, sobbing and he knew what was coming next. Couldn’t bear to hear what was coming next.

“Don’t let mommy take me back to that man. He hurts me. He puts needles in me and he puts fire in my blood! Please, Mikey, Please. Don’t let him do that anymore!”

“Oh sweetheart, I know it hurts. I know it’s scary but he’s making you better. And we’ll be able to play hide and seek again. Outside. We’ll fly kites and build a snowman when it snows. Soon as you’re better.”

Her tiny fingers knotted in the fabric of his shirt and he could feel wet tears on his neck from her and on his cheeks from his own eyes.

“I don’t want to go to heaven yet. Please Mikey. Please.”

Oh Christ. Quinn wiped his sleeve across his eyes then forced a smile on his face. He tipped her chin up to look at him. “Let’s pretend, Daisy. Let’s pretend we’re movie stars. I’m going to fight King Kong and you can be a tap dancer in a sparkly, long dress and huge hat. And everyone will want to take your picture and ask, how did you manage to dance so beautifully without knocking that giant hat from your head.”

She smiled for a fraction of a second and he was able to swallow again. Then the smile faded, and she doubled over from the pain in her stomach. “Make it stop, Mikey. Why won’t you make it stop!” Daisy burrowed deep into his arms, body wracked with pain and sobs. “Why didn’t you protect me?”

Quinn was sobbing now, too. There was no stopping the flood. No stopping the horrendous ache in his stomach and the tearing away of his heart.

“Michael!” Father. Shaking him by the shoulders.

_Crying like child. You’re a man! Act like it!_

**“Not a man! I was only eight years old!”**

The intensity of Quinn’s words pushed Hynek back but only for an instant. He dropped to his knees beside his partner and was both relieved and surprised when a sobbing Quinn collapsed against him. Awkwardly, Allen wrapped his arms around him, in the same way Quinn had his arms wrapped tightly around a rag doll.

“I couldn’t save her,” he pushed the words out all scratchy and wet with emotion. “I couldn’t help her. I went to wake her for breakfast, but she didn’t wake up. She never woke up.”

At a loss for what to do or say, Allen simply held on until Quinn pulled away an eternity later. “Doc. I think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Let’s not jump to any rash conclusions.” He put a hand back on Quinn’s arm, feeling like he didn’t want to give up all contact just yet. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I saw my little sister, Daisy. She was right here. I heard her voice. Her laugh. I held her in my arms, and she was as solid as you are. But that can’t be because she’s dead. She’s died when she was five. Five, Doc. How is that fair?”

“It’s not. That must have been very hard on your whole family.”

“You have no idea.” Quinn stood and the doll fell from his lap.

Hynek picked it up as he stood, too. “The girl you saw. Could it have been someone pretending? We know Dunham’s subjects can read minds. She read yours and used it against you?”

Quinn shook his head, then ran his sleeve across his eyes. “It was Daisy. Exactly like I remembered her. She was sick. The doctors didn’t know with what, or maybe they just didn’t want to tell me. My mother was desperate to save her. She found this quack doctor who promised a cure. She’d bring Daisy to him a couple of times a week and this bastard would inject God knows what into her and wire her up for electric shock treatments. I had to go with them sometimes when school was out. I had to watch that man torture my sister while my mother paid him to do it.”

Quinn rolled his neck and swung his arms, so much energy with no where to go.

“Daisy used to beg me to hide her on doctor days. Anything to stop that man from hurting her and I couldn’t. I was eight years old. If our father couldn’t protect her, how was I supposed to?”

“I’m sure you did what you could to help her get through it.”

“I tried. I’d make up stories about us being movie stars or flying off to our own world on the back of a dragon. She wanted so bad to fly. To touch the stars. She would have loved all this crazy UFO stuff.” He swallowed back another flood of tears. “I wish –”

Hynek closed the space between them and set a strong, warm hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “You wish you could forget and just remember.”

Quinn turned toward him, their faces only inches away. His eyes were clouded with tears and the stains of previous drops still showed on his cheeks. “Now _you’re_ reading my mind?”

“Our brains have a negative bias. We naturally favor the bad over the good. Probably part of our ancient survival training. It’s more important to remember which plants make you sick than which ones taste good.” He handed Quinn the doll.

“She was fearless before the treatments.” Pick the lint from the doll’s hair, straighten the dress, pull on a pigtail.

Hynek’s heart shattered and he knew if they stood there another minute, he’d be the one to break.

“It’s stuffy up here. Let’s go down and get some air.”

Quinn nodded and allowed himself to be herded from the room, down to the ground floor and even out the front door. That was it though. He dropped down to sitting on the porch steps.

“My father blamed my mother for Daisy’s death. My mother just fell apart. She spent days in my sister’s room, sleeping in her bed, playing with her toys.” Quinn arranged the doll so it was sitting on the step by his feet. “I did, too sometimes. I missed her. I miss her. And when I saw those files, experimenting on children, saying it’s for their own good. . . I just. . . “

Hynek sat down on the porch step, too. He wanted to sit close enough to be shoulder-to-shoulder but that would mean moving the doll away and he didn’t think Quinn could take it.

“You didn’t come here for answers, did you? You came to punish yourself. Just like Dunham.”

“Remember what he said about the girl in the program. 8 years old and she was stealing so her baby brother didn’t go hungry. She found a way. I should have found a way.” Quinn pulled his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. He tapped one loose, pulled it free from the pack with his lips and lit up.

“Where did you get those?” Hynek motioned to the pack.

He shrugged, “The base exchange, I guess.”

“No. That’s not your brand.”

“You know what brand of cigarettes I smoke?”

“I pick up details, I can’t help it. Where did this pack come from?”

Quinn thought a moment. “Oh, Mrs. Dunham. She gave them to me from her husband’s stash because he destroyed mine.”

Hynek plucked the cigarette out of Quinn’s mouth then sniffed the smoke coming from the lit end.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing a theory.” He put the cigarette in his own mouth which got a quizzical rise out of the Captain’s eyebrows. “How many of these have you had?”

“I don’t know, one or two. . . or three.” He was such a habitual smoker; he didn’t honestly know how many he consumed in an average day.

Hynek carefully ground out the lit end to crush the embers without destroying the remaining stick. “I’d have to smoke more to know for sure, but I’m fairly certain they’re made of more than just tobacco.”

“More? Like what?”

“From your behavior? A **hallucinogen** would be my guess.”

“You mean that nice old lady drugged me!”

Ah, there was the old Quinn.

“Or she wasn’t aware that her husband had a worse habit than just smoking. You said she nicked it from his stash.”

“So, I imagined all of that?” Quinn picked up the doll and fussed with the dress. “It was so real.”

“I’m sure you’ve had dreams like that. Where you woke up confused about where you were. This is no different. Another trick of the brain. You were already thinking about your sister, so the drugs filled in the rest.”

Quinn brought his hand to his mouth, realized he didn’t have a cigarette then reached for the pack. Hynek’s up turned palm appeared in front of his face.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

Realizing what he was about to do, Quinn reluctantly turned over the pack. “After what I just went through and now, I have to give up smoking. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“We’ll stop at a gas station on the way to the hotel and buy you a whole carton. Can you make it that long?”

Quinn stood up and stretched. “I don’t know. All the time I was in combat, I never came back as exhausted as I am after a day with you.”

“I have the same effect on my students. They’re always falling asleep in my class.”

Even though he was the tired one, Quinn held his hand out to his partner then pulled him to his feet. “I’d like to visit your class sometime. Watch you teach.”

Hynek eyed him suspiciously as if he was waiting for an inevitable joke. When one didn’t come he said, “I’d like that.”

They walked to the car, then Hynek held his palm out again. “Keys. I’m driving.”

Quinn handed them over without hesitation then went around to the passenger side. Just before climbing into the car, he looked up at the tower window.

Daisy was there. She smiled and waved.

She wasn’t alone. Ella and Emily, the twin granddaughters were standing on either side.

“Miss you, Daisy girl,” Quinn mouthed, then got into the car. He thought about asking Hynek to look up but decided he’d rather believe it was still the drugs working overtime on his brain. The alternative was too much to handle.

“I’m going to close my eyes,” said Quinn. “Why don’t you deliver your most scintillating lecture.”

“Hmm. . . hard to choose between my thoughts on primordial nucleosynthesis or my talk on Chandrasekhar's limit as it relates to dwarf stars.”

“Do the dwarf one,” said Quinn as he huddled up against the car door.

Hynek began his lecture and just like a hundred other students before him, Quinn quickly fell asleep.

# # #

“Time for hide and seek. Close your eyes, Daisy and count to ten.”

Ella and Emily ran off to hide.

“I’ll find you,” Daisy said, arm across her eyes. “Doesn’t matter where you hide. I’ll always find you.”

THE END

_And if you sing this melody  
You'll be pretending just like me  
The world is mine, it can be yours, my friend  
So why don't you pretend?_


End file.
